Chapter 710

She heard that Leda's son was still single.

He was just a cripple. Couldn't even stand on his own.

Leda was surprised when Joie took the initiative to reach out. She raised an eyebrow and asked, "Meeting? Didn't you refuse to have anything to do with me before? Aren't you afraid the Salters will give you trouble?"

Joie bit her lip as if she had been slapped. Leda on the other end of the line had already hung up.

"Bang!"

After consecutive setbacks, Joie could no longer suppress her emotions. She swung her hand violently.

Bottles and jars on the coffee table were scattered all over the floor.

The Salter Mansion.

A bright red sports car pulled up, and Zella got out, carrying her daughter.

The servant nodded indifferently, "Ms. Zella."

Zella's daughter was remarkably beautiful, but she had always been frail. Her pale face was hidden in Zella's arms, her tiny, careful eyes peering out, like a timid fawn.

The servant didn't think much of Zella and her daughter. They had been engaged for so many years, and even had a child, but still hadn't married. It was clear that Marcel didn't love Zella. Zella was used to the servant's attitude and went upstairs with her daughter.

The little girl lay on the bed, took her medicine, and fell into a deep sleep.

Emerging from the bedroom, Zella saw Leda ascending the stairs.

"Madam."

Leda looked arrogant and glanced at Zella as she asked, "How are things?"

"Nova's health has improved a lot. The doctor said she could have surgery when she turns seven, and she'll be just like any other child after that."/

Her daughter had been diagnosed with congenital deficiency at birth and later found to have heart problems. Over the years, she was practically a regular at the hospital.

Leda gestured with her chin. "You've been engaged to Marcel for so long, and since she's about to be well, it's about time you considered having a second child."

second child?

Zella felt a sinking feeling in her heart. "Madam, Marcel and I aren't married yet. We should talk about having another child later."

Over the past five years, Marcel hadn't mentioned anything about getting married.

When she first moved in there, she was Marcel's fiancée, and the servants were somewhat respectful towards her.

But after five years, she was still his fiancée. The servants noticed that her relationship with Marcel was mediocre, and they often gossiped behind her back.

In the entire mansion, she felt like a caged canary. From dawn to dusk, she either took care of Nova or waited for Marcel to return home.

Unfortunately, Marcel seldom came home, and they hardly spent time together.

Leda caught the subtext. "Your daughter is frail. If you can't have a healthy child, what will Marcel do?"

Zella's face turned pale, and she clenched her fists tightly. "Madam..."

"When you have a healthy child, I'll make Marcel marry you immediately. Think about it."

With that, Leda went upstairs.

She regretted it. If she had known that Zella couldn't even have a healthy child, she wouldn't have let Marcel get engaged to her.

Back in her room, Zella tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep.

Finally, when she did manage to fall asleep, a frantic knocking on the door woke her up. Startled, she got out of bed, opened the door, and met Marcel's eyes. "What were you doing? Why did it take you so long to open the door?"

He had probably just returned, and he was reeking of alcohol. He must have just finished a dinner party.

Zella let go of the door. 'I'm sorry, I was asleep."

Marcel wheeled himself into the bedroom. Zella approached and helped him out of his suit jacket, catching a strong scent of perfume from the alcohol. There were other women at the dinner party!

Zella's fingers tightened slightly as she hung up his clothes and brought him a basin of water, handing him a towel. "Why did you come back so late?"

The old fogies were a bit troublesome." Marcel sounded rather irritated. He wiped his hands, and threw the towel into the basin, splashing water.

Zella was about to clean up, but he pulled her into his arms, scaring her pale. "Marcel, don't..."

"Don't move."

With a wave of Marçel's hand, the fabric shattered!

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